Stuck
by Queenhaq
Summary: Arthur/Ariadne.  It's been months since they attempted inception and Ariadne's guilty conscience won't leave her alone.
1. Chapter 1

Characters: Ariadne, Arthur  
Fandom: Inception  
Rating: R for language  
Spoilers: Post-movie.  
Summary: It's been a few months since their attempt at inception and Ariadne's guilty conscience won't leave her alone.  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended as 'Inception' belongs to Chris Nolan.

Ariadne nurses the glass of white wine in her hands as she surveys the surroundings around her. Robert Fischer is staying at this hotel and chances are he'll stop by this restaurant for a late dinner as he has done several times this week.

It's been five months since their attempt at inception and she still has no idea if they were successful. Although a small, selfish part of her hopes they were, she stifles the thought when she's reminded of their actions: they invaded Robert Fischer's dreams, intruded upon his psyche, and possibly changed the very person that he is; that kind of power is not something she's comfortable with. Even though the adrenaline rush from their little adventure made her feel almost euphoric in the beginning, the true consequences of their mission sunk in few days after their plane ride: inception destroyed Mal's life, what if it had the same effect on Robert?

Since then, Ariadne has been obsessed with finding out more about their mark.

She's pored over the business section of newspapers for months now. Unfortunately ever since his father passed away, Robert Fischer has remained low-key. He has yet to dismantle his empire, which gives Ariadne hope that maybe the inception didn't take. And now that he's in Manhattan for a business trip, it's her best chance to discover more about him.

Glancing at her watch impatiently, Ariadne takes a sip of her wine. Never having a high tolerance for alcohol, she's already slightly buzzed when someone gently grips her shoulder from behind. Ariadne doesn't need to turn around to know who it is: there's only one person whose touch can make her feel this nervous and angry at the same time.

_Arthur_.

She doesn't acknowledge his gesture which only encourages him to take the seat next to her. Reluctantly, Ariadne meets his gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies.

"I'm having a drink."

He cocks his eyebrow. "And it's a co-incidence it happens to be in the same country, city, and hotel as Robert Fischer?"

"Yes," she lies, mimicking his calm, mocking tone. "Of course it is."

Arthur's eyes remain fixed on her, and Ariadne fights the urge to lean in closer and breathe in the faint scent of his cologne. She hasn't seen him in months, not since she walked out on him after their fight, and up until now she hasn't even allowed herself to think about him. Now that he's here, sitting so close she can reach out and touch his face, it hits her how much she's missed him. And how furious he makes her.

"I thought we discussed this," he continues, his voice calm and steady.

It disgusts her that she can barely hold it together in front of him while he's completely unaffected by her. Jaw clenched, she glares down at her wine glass. "This has nothing to do with you, Arthur."

"I'm responsible for taking care of loose ends."

She responds with a bitter smile. "Is that what I am now?"

"Honestly, yes."

She finishes the last of her wine.

"Do you think seeing him in person is going to make you feel better?" Arthur asks.

"I just... I want to know we didn't screw him up for life."

"It's too late to change it even if we did," Arthur says matter-of-factly.

It pisses her off how cool and detached he is at all times. He never gets upset, never loses control, no matter what the situation.

Nothing ever gets to him, least of all her.

In their dreams, he stole a kiss from Ariadne. In reality, he rejected her with a consoling smile because he didn't want to compromise their professional relationship. When she started exhibiting guilt over the part she played in their scheme leading to an emotional breakdown in front of him, he informed her oh-so-politely maybe she needed a break from work and go back to school. She walked out, hoping he would come after her. He never did... until now.

"I'm not here to screw things up for you, Arthur. That's not what this is about. I have no intentions of telling Fischer anything."

"You may not intend to, but guilt has a way of messing people up."

"What do you know about guilt?" Ariadne fires back. "You're made of stone. There's _nothing _in you that's capable of feeling."

"Maybe you should calm down."

"Maybe you should go fuck yourself."

He gives her a patronising smile. "Why don't we go up to your room and talk about this?"

"Oh, is that how you assume you're going to take care of me?" she scoffs.

"Well, aren't you here to get my attention?"

"You arrogant son of a bitch!"

Ariadne could care less the bartender and other patrons' are now staring at her but the last thing she wants is to draw Fischer's attention if he happens to walk in right now. She stands up, ready to storm out when Arthur grabs her elbow and pulls her back. "Let me go," she bites out through gritted teeth, glaring angrily at him.

"Think about what you're risking, Ariadne," he whispers, his voice soft as velvet even as his eyes glint with the cold hard determination she's become accustomed to from him. His thumb gently strokes her skin as he leans in closer, peering at her. "You can ruin everything Cobb's worked hard for."

"I would never do that."

"Prove it. Walk away from Fischer. Go back to Paris."

"No."

They remain frozen in place, gazes locked, until finally he eases his grip on her. For a moment she spies something curious in his eyes, almost like regret, but it quickly disappears and Ariadne realizes she must have imagined it.

"I'm not going to make this easy for you, Ariadne."

She used to love the way he said her name. Now, it sounds nothing less than a threat.

"And I'm not going to let you scare me off."

She walks out of the restaurant, acutely aware of his eyes following her every move. Maybe Arthur was right, she muses as she waits for the elevator. Maybe a part of her is doing this to get his attention.

The elevator doors open up, she steps inside, and is about to press the floor button when Robert Fischer slips in. He sends her a polite, disinterested smile of gratitude to which she replies with a slight nod. However, all thoughts of Fischer quickly dissolve in her mind as the doors close; it's Arthur, standing a few feet away, who has her full concentration.

Arthur. Angry and hostile.

Ariadne smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**~~~Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback you guys left. While I appreciate Arthur/Ariadne fluff as much as the next person, I wanted to explore a different element to their relationship. I hope you guys continue to read and share your thoughts with me. Thank you!~~~ **

Ariadne can feel her heart pounding in her chest as soon as she spots Robert Fischer sitting at the bar. Her plan is to strike up a casual conversation, maybe even invite him out to dinner; unfortunately for her, she's never been good at this sort of thing.

Before walking over, she scrutinizes her reflection in the mirrored walls: the grey pencil skirt is a little too tight for her liking but she adores the cut of the matching jacket. While it hasn't escaped her notice the outfit is similar to the one she wore in Arthur's dream, she chooses not to dwell on that fact.

Smoothing the fabric of her skirt, she approaches the bar. There is a glass of whiskey – neat, Fischer's favourite drink from what she's observed – sitting in front of him; he hasn't touched it yet – he's too busy reading his blackberry.

Hesitantly, and with the most come-hither smile she can muster up, Ariadne takes the seat next to him. He doesn't look up.

She orders a drink, and waits for Fischer to take notice. Nothing. Finally, when the bartender sets the wine glass in front of her, Ariadne knocks it over in his direction. "I'm so sorry," she cries, feigning embarrassment as the liquid spills on him.

He sends her a polite, albeit an irritated smile. "It's alright." He grabs a handful of napkins to dry his pants. "It happens."

"I'm so sorry. I've been a nervous wreck the whole day today... I just had an interview and I bombed it..." she babbles on purposely. Fischer doesn't appear to be paying any attention to her so Ariadne tries a different approach. "Let me buy you a drink."

He finally looks at her. "It's not necessary. I already have one."

"That's right. You do. Dinner then."

"I don't think so," he replies.

"Please, I insist. I'll feel horrible if you don't let me make it up to you."

"I'm not hungry."

"Come on, don't be like that. I already feel bad enough as it is..." She gives him the most flirtatious smile she's capable of even though she feels completely idiotic doing it.

He stares at her intently for the next few seconds, and she can feel her anxiety increase tenfold. His piercing gaze has a way of unsettling her, and she begins to worry her ruse is up. Maybe he recognizes her? No, that's not possible... she thinks.

Ariadne is about to rescind her offer when he responds with a cordial smile.

"I have a meeting in half an hour and I need to go upstairs and change. How about a rain check?"

She tries not to let her surprise show. "Sure. Tomorrow?"

"That should work."

"I'm Ariadne, by the way." She extends her hand out to him, which apparently amuses him.

"Robert Fischer," he introduces himself, shaking her hand.

"Why does that sound familiar?"

The smile on his face stiffens.

_Shit_. She played this wrong. Before he can change his mind, she continues quickly, "Let's meet here tomorrow. Is six okay with you?"

There is a short pause before he replies. "It's fine."

"Great," she grins.

Fischer grants her a tight smile as he walks away. When he finally disappears from her line of sight, Ariadne breathes a huge sigh of relief and orders another drink.

Truthfully, she didn't really think things would get this far. Now that it has, she's at a loss for what to do next. She doesn't even know what she wants to accomplish; after all, it's not as if Fischer is going to reveal the workings of his inner mind to a complete stranger. And what can he possibly share that's going to ease her guilt about what they put him through anyway...

She finishes the rest of her drink and heads to her room upstairs. What she needs is a long, hot shower to clear her head.

88888

Ariadne tightens the terry-cloth robe around her before picking up the complimentary body lotion from the counter. The faint hint of cinnamon in the bottle instinctively reminds her of all the Christmases she spent with her grandfather, their house warm and cozy with the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air, Christmas music blaring from the living room, and her granddad hiding her presents all over the house.

Although Ariadne's parents died in a car accident when she was only five, it's not them she misses the most – it's her granddad. She never truly felt alone in this world until he passed away a few years ago. She had thought maybe attending college in Paris would keep her too busy to dwell on that loss, and for a while it worked, but ultimately she always found herself alone at Christmas when her friends went back home.

Maybe that's why her conscience won't leave her alone when it comes to Fischer. He may not have been close to his father but he seemed to have a great relationship with Browning and she would hate to think that was ruined because of what she did.

Just one of many reasons why she can't put this behind her.

Ariadne exits the bathroom and is about to turn off the lights when she realises she's not alone in her hotel room.

Arthur is sitting on the couch, staring intently at her. Dressed in his usual formal attire, a dark green three-piece suit this time, he appears deceptively relaxed. If not for the determined glint in his brown eyes, she could almost pretend he's here for a friendly visit.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long," he replies.

"What do you want?"

He doesn't say anything for the longest time, he simply watches her. If she thought Fischer made her nervous, it's nothing in comparison to how Arthur makes her feel.

There's no way in hell she'll give him the satisfaction of knowing that though.

"Spilling your drink? Is that really the best you could come up with, Ariadne?" he mocks.

She's not the least bit surprised Arthur was watching her interaction with Fischer. "It worked, didn't it?"

"What are you expecting tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

He cocks his eyebrow. "You haven't formulated a plan?"

"No," she snaps at him. "Fischer isn't a mark, Arthur."

"Not this time at least."

"I don't need a plan; I have no intention of manipulating him."

"You just want him to pour his heart out to you." A condescending smile curves across his face, and she resists the urge to slap him.

Ariadne can count on one hand how many times she's seen Arthur genuinely smile. It usually happened when Arthur gained the upper hand on Eames, or if he came up with some brilliant solution to a problem the rest of the team couldn't overcome, or when they were sharing dreams.

When they first started working together, and she didn't know him all that well, he used to smile at her more often. His face would light up, his mouth curled upwards, and the corner of his eyes crinkled. However, as they started spending more time alone together, and after Cobb quit, something seemed to change in him.

Or maybe it wasn't that _he_ changed at all, but that she began to see Arthur for what he really was: a cold-blooded bastard who had managed to fool everyone into thinking he was a human being.

"You should have been more thorough with your research," Arthur continues, breaking her out of her reverie. "Fischer has a preference for redheads."

"You seem to think I want to date him. I don't."

"He wouldn't be interested, even if you were. He doesn't like helpless girls." He says the last part with such relish she almost throws a lamp at him. "He likes his women confident, assertive."

"While you prefer them mute and lifeless."

There's that patronising smile again.

This time he stands up, his movements quick and agile as he smoothes his jacket before sliding his hands into his pocket.

Everything about him – his personality, his work, his looks and even his goddamn hair - is practised and perfectly maintained, meticulously in control and never out of place. It makes her wonder if he's ever been spontaneous, or done something crazy, or stepped outside for a second without being dressed to the nines. He probably goes grocery shopping in a fucking suit.

Arthur moves towards her, slowly closing the distance between them, and the butterflies in her stomach start to flutter faster. She has seen him subtly admire many women, and even her when they initially worked together, but now she's practically naked and he hasn't even noticed.

She studies him cautiously while he stands perfectly still in front of her, his poker face set in place.

"What are you hoping to accomplish by taunting me?" he asks.

Try as she might to remain calm and controlled, it's impossible for her to do so when it comes to Arthur. Especially when he sounds bored and detached even as he's interrogating her. "Maybe I just want to see you bleed."

Suddenly his hands are on her back, pulling her close, and she finds herself pressed firmly against him. Her body instantly reacts to his, nerves throbbing, heart racing, every inch of skin on fire even though there are layers of clothing between them.

She's lost in his eyes, his warm, heated gaze conveying the depth of emotions she desperately sought but never thought him capable of.

At this very moment, he's the farthest thing from cold and aloof.

His fingers lace through her wet hair, and he tilts her head back, and she's melting in his arms when he leans forward. "Ariadne," he whispers, tracing the outer shell of her ear with his tongue, "there's _nothing _in you that can hurt me. You would have to mean something to me in order to do that."

His words wound her and she's the one left bleeding, struggling not to dissolve into tears.

He gives her a quick peck on the forehead, and a cold smile for a goodbye. "Go home, Ariadne," is the last thing he says before he leaves her.

Hours later, as she lies awake, she can still feel the sting of his lips on her skin.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As always, thank you for taking the time to read and leave me your feedback. It's very much appreciated :)**

**88888**

What Ariadne could use right now is a shot of courage. Unfortunately, it's anxiety that surges through her when she spots Robert Fischer in the lobby. "Hey," she says, approaching him. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, just a few minutes."

From the research she's done both before and after inception, he's not someone who allows people into his life very easily. As such, she's not surprised by Fischer's wary attitude towards her even if he did accept her invitation for dinner.

"I need to ask you a question," he says. "And it may offend you."

_Shit_. Like she wasn't nervous enough already. "What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?"

Ariadne breathes a sigh of relief. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to ask a woman her age?"

"I'm more concerned about socializing with a minor than offending one."

"Don't worry, Fischer. I'm legal."

His eyebrow quirks up, and she wonders if he's annoyed with her friendly use of his last name. Maybe she's acting too familiar with him.

"You can call me Robert," he says with a hint of a smile. "Or Mr. Fischer if you really want to give people the impression I'm consorting with a student."

She laughs. A sense of humor was something she definitely wasn't expecting.

"Shall we?" he asks, guiding her towards the hotel restaurant.

"Would you mind if we went someplace else? I'm so tired of the food here."

He scrutinizes her, making her feel nervous all over again. "What did you have in mind?"

"There's a Thai restaurant I found a few days ago. It's amazing."

"Thai," he repeats, looking less than enthused with her choice.

"What? Do you not like Thai food?"

"I hope they serve vegan."

"Oh," she says, surprised; his food preferences never came up in her research.

"I'm not sure. We can go someplace else if you want. It didn't even occur to me-"

"I'm kidding," he interjects.

"Oh."

"And now you're embarrassed. This is going to be a long evening if you can't handle being teased."

"Don't worry about me. I'm a lot less fragile than I look."

"I hope you realize I'll be checking your ID before I buy you a drink."

"Since drinks are on me tonight," she reminds him, "you won't have to."

"You'll still have to prove you're over 21."

"Yeah, yeah," she grins.

When she was contemplating her evening with Fischer earlier today, it never occurred to her she might actually enjoy his company.

"Do we need a cab?" he asks.

"No. We can walk; it's only two blocks away."

He finally grants her a genuine smile, and she's startled by the drastic difference in him. His pale blue eyes transform into a lighter shade, full of mirth and mischief and devoid of the coldness he displayed earlier.

"Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head 'no'. "Why?"

"You're staring at me."

"Oh, sorry."

"That's alright. Lead the way."

As they stroll out of the hotel, guilt pricks her conscience all over again. Even though it really shouldn't matter if he's nice or not, the fact that he _is_ makes her feel worse about what she did. And more determined to find out what consequences her actions had for him.

88888

"Tell me the truth."

Ariadne takes in the unexpected sternness in Robert's voice, and her heart starts pounding in her chest. Although there have been moments of awkward pauses sprinkled throughout their conversation, the dinner had been proceeding fairly well up until now. Maybe she overestimated her own charm. "About?"

"Why did you spill your drink on me yesterday?"

"It was an accident." From the skeptical look on his face, it's apparent he doesn't believe her. "I was trying to get your attention and you only had eyes on your phone," she confesses.

"A simple 'hello' would have sufficed."

"I'll remember that the next time."

He gives her one of his charming smiles again but the suspicious glint in his eyes is evident. "Are you a reporter?"

She sets down her glass of wine. "No."

"Did you really have a job interview yesterday?"

"Yes," she lies.

"For what? Babysitting?"

She laughs. "How old do you think I look?"

"16."

"That's ridiculous. I can pass for at least 20!"

"I'll give you 18, but definitely not 20."

"Well then, I hope people here are judging you hard for hanging out with an 18 year old."

A soft chuckle escapes his lips; she almost feels proud of herself for making him laugh.

Their waitress comes by to pick up their empty plates and, like she's done since they sat down for dinner, offers Fischer a flirtatious smile. Ariadne laughs to herself and takes a sip of her wine. It amuses her how much attention Fischer garners from women – not that it's a surprise. Although she wouldn't label him as handsome – his features are too delicate and refined for that – Robert Fischer is strikingly beautiful. And seemingly oblivious to his own looks and charm.

Unlike someone else in her life who is fully aware of the effect he has on women, most especially her.

She promised herself she wasn't going to look but Ariadne quickly glances over at Arthur.

He tips his glass in her direction and sends her a cocky smile. _Jackass_.

Arthur came in shortly after they did, strutted by their table, and took a seat at the bar. Since then he's been staring at her intently, occasionally winking when she happens to catch his eye, and flirting with the female bartender when he knows Ariadne's watching.

As much as she'd like to believe he's here out of jealousy, she knows it's not the case. Arthur wants her to second-guess herself, make her nervous, and probably even provoke a reaction in her which would make Fischer suspicious of her motives. And if he knew how easily he could accomplish all that, he'd be ecstatic.

Arthur has a hold on her unlike anyone else in her life, cause her to be irrational and defensive where she's usually been level-headed and logical. And after last night when he told her exactly how little she meant to him, she can add self-conscious to that list.

"Why architecture?" Fischer asks.

Grateful for the distraction, Ariadne shifts her attention back on Fischer. "I suppose it's in my blood. My parents were both architects."

She had debated giving Fischer fake details about her life, but decided against it. This was difficult enough, she didn't want to compound it by lying about herself.

"Are they retired?"

"No. Dead."

He seems surprised by her lack of an emotional response.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I barely remember them, to be honest," she replies, shrugging her shoulders. "I was raised by my grandfather but he passed away a few years ago."

"Was he an architect as well?"

She shakes her head 'no'. "His family couldn't afford to send him to college, but he

went into construction and studied architecture on his own as much as he could. He loved buildings; he could talk about them for hours on end."

"Do you enjoy it?" he asks. "Or is architecture more of an obligation at this point?"

She smiles. "I love it. I always have. It's my calling in life." Realizing this is the perfect time to probe Fischer, she leans forward. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You said you took over your family business recently. How's that going?"

He doesn't answer her question. Instead, he swallows the remainder of his whiskey.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's not you. I'm just tired of discussing business."

He sounds exhausted, and she resists the urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him. "Let's get out of here and do something fun."

"What did you have in mind?" Robert asks.

"Saint Patrick's Cathedral."

"You want to take me to church? I'm not sure you understand the concept of fun."

"Shut up," she grins. "We're not going there to pray or anything. We're just going to look around. It's a beautiful building. Definitely one of my favorites."

"If you insist," he sighs.

"Why don't you get us a cab and I'll meet you outside in a few minutes?"

Fischer's phone rings just then and he gives her an apologetic look as he pulls it out of his pocket. "Sorry, I have to take this. It's work." He gets up from the table and rushes outside, his concentration now fully focused on the phone call.

Seizing the opportunity to confront Arthur, she storms over. Although he usually towers over her, she has the advantage this time as he's sitting down. Unfortunately, he doesn't look the least bit threatened by her presence. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," he drawls.

"I didn't realize stalking was considered a job now."

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

She reminds herself to breathe and not lose her temper. "I don't want to argue with you, Arthur. I just want you to stay away from me."

"Feeling's mutual," he smiles.

_Asshole_.

"Saito's starting to think we failed at Inception," Arthur reveals, surprising her.

"What if we did? Would that be so bad?"

"For us? Yes."

"For Fischer?"

"That's not my concern."

"Of course not. Why would you care about the consequences of your actions?" she mutters sarcastically.

"Do you know what Saito will do if he finds out you're messing around with Fischer?"

"Are you threatening to tell him?"

"I don't have to; he's not a stupid man. He already has people tailing Fischer. If he finds out you're socializing with him, he's not going to be very happy."

"You make it sound like I'm dating him or something. I'm only out with him for tonight."

"Only tonight?" he whispers, leaning in towards her. "Promise?"

She tries to ignore the tingle of excitement, the sudden rush of electricity that surges through her when his eyes are locked on her and his face so close she can feel his breath humming against her skin. She's breathless with anticipation, her body suddenly and intensely hot, and all she can think about is consuming him.

Her body iaches/i to touch his, to feel him wrapped around her; she's dying to run her fingers through his hair, desperate to find out if his naked skin is as soft and warm as she's imagined.

He tugs at the scarf around her neck gently, his heated gaze fixated on her.

And she realizes he's completely manipulating her.

"Do you honestly think you can seduce me into doing what you want?"

Instantly he pulls back, cold expression firmly back in place.

"You must think I'm stupid," she expels furiously.

He cocks his eyebrow. "No, just foolish."

"And you're not as charming as you think. Underneath all the designer suits and false bravado, you're just a scared little boy."

"Is this when you psychoanalyze me?"

She fists his tie and pulls him close. "Don't push my buttons, Arthur; you're not going to like what you find. And if you come after me, be prepared for one hell of a fight."

His mask suddenly cracks and there's genuine arousal in his eyes, something wild and out of control calling out to her. Before she can fell prey to it, she whirls around and walks back to her table, confident with the knowledge she has as much power over him as he does her.

Ariadne takes care of the bill and joins Fischer outside a few minutes later, fully aware of Arthur's hungry eyes following her every move.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the wonderful feedback you guys have left me. I hope you continue to share you thoughts :)**

**888  
**

"You really don't have to walk me to my room," Ariadne says as she and Robert exit the elevator. "I think I can handle the ten steps all by myself."

"I'm not too sure about that. What if you get hungry and pass out?"

"Is that supposed to be a crack about how much I eat?"

"Not at all. I always snack on a hamburger after a full meal," he deadpans. "And then I like to wash it down with a pretzel."

"Sarcasm is not an attractive quality, my friend."

"Ah, but a healthy appetite is," Robert teases.

"This is me." Reaching her room, she turns to face him. Although the evening started out uncomfortably, and there was that tense moment with Arthur, she had a better time with Robert than she hoped for. And if the mischievous twinkle in his eyes is any indication, he enjoyed himself as well.

"You never did tell me why you tried to get my attention yesterday," he reminds her.

"You looked bored and I was in a charitable mood."

"Ah, so you spilled your drink for _my _benefit?"

"Of course," she grins.

"I suppose I should be grateful then."

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to say thanks."

Robert catches her by surprise when he takes an unexpected step forward. A smile forms across his face, simultaneously angelic and devious, his blue eyes sparkling brighter than before.

"Has anyone told you you're a very strange girl?"

"No…"

"You are."

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"I meant it as a compliment."

"Oh."

He leans in even closer; Ariadne finds herself frozen in place. His steely gaze, hypnotic and unsettling, makes it impossible to avert her eyes.

"A strange girl with a strange name," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Who's lying to me but won't tell me why."

Suddenly the walls are closing in on her, and she can practically hear Arthur's voice reminding her how foolish this charade was. How could she have possibly believed she fooled Robert? And did he know she was lying from the beginning or did she say something to arouse his suspicions?

"And now you're panicking, wondering what I'll do to get the truth out of you."

She watches him hesitantly, waiting for him to explain.

"No denials?" he asks.

"What's the point?"

His eyes grow darker, the unmistakable hint of menace now looming in them. "It would be very easy for me to find out who you really are."

"I told you who I am."

"But you're hiding something from me and all I have to do is make one phone call to find out what that is."

Despite what he may believe, it won't be that easy. "Do what you have to." She ponders the thoughts running through his head while he studies her with a pointed gaze.

"I'd rather hear it from you," he says after a while, waiting for a response she's unable to give.

For the second time that night, Robert surprises her by grazing her forehead in a tender manner. She's left momentarily speechless by the intimate gesture and it isn't until he leaves her side, heading towards the elevator, that she finally finds her voice. "Robert?"

He looks over his shoulder at her.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't respond until the elevator stops in front of him and he steps inside. "Your apology doesn't mean anything unless you can follow it up with the truth."

The doors shut, and she's left staring at an empty hallway.

88888

Ariadne knocks on the door impatiently. Few seconds later, when he finally answers, she's surprised to find a disheveled Arthur staring back at her. His tie is loosened around his neck, his hair ruffled, the irritated expression on his face becoming more pronounced once he realizes it's _her_.

"How did you find out where I was staying?" he asks.

"Maybe I followed _you _this time. Doesn't feel so good, does it?"

"You're lying."

"You don't know that."

He smirks. "I can always tell."

_Bastard_.

"You couldn't have found a different hotel than mine?"

"It was the easiest way to keep track of Fischer."

"Sure. Fischer," she mutters sarcastically.

"Don't flatter yourself. My decision had nothing to do with you."

"Eames was right. You really have no imagination."

"He's the one who told you where I am," he states, clearly not pleased.

"Maybe."

"Looks like Eames and I need to have a conversation about privacy."

"Don't bother him. He asked me to remind you he's on vacation and won't be returning your calls anytime soon."

"And that rule doesn't apply to you?"

She gives him a smug smile. "Eames likes me. You, not so much."

"Why are you here?"

"Don't be rude. Invite me in."

Arthur doesn't respond, his gaze piercing into her as he studies her silently. She takes the opportunity to do the same, ignoring the twisted knot in her stomach that seems to form whenever he's close.

She's used to seeing his hair perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place, his suits immaculately tailored. But here he is now, hair messy, shirt beginning to show signs of wrinkles. And she's never found him more attractive.

Ariadne ponders his reaction if she were to reach out and run her fingers through his hair. Would he smack her hand away, or would he actually let her? Chances are he would simply shut the door in her face.

The air is thick with tension, and she tries her hardest not to squirm under his gaze. The longer they stare at each other, the more she regrets showing up here – which is probably his intention to begin with.

He finally steps aside, opening the door wide for her. As she saunters past him, her arm accidentally brushes against his and her body reacts instantly to the contact. When she looks up at him to gauge his reaction, he simply turns back and shuts the door.

There are blueprints and files strewn all over the floor. "You're working," she mumbles, her attention drawn to the model of a small office perched on the nightstand table.

"Always the observant one," he deadpans from behind.

She cranes her neck to look at him and is disappointed to find his tie properly knotted again. "New project?"

"Something like that."

"Why didn't you ask me to join?"

"I already have an architect."

"You just don't want to work with me again."

He doesn't deny her accusation, staring at her with a blank expression on his face as he shoves his hands inside his pockets.

It doesn't escape her notice that he's keeping his distance, and it pisses her off. Does he think she can't control herself around him? Is that why he refuses to work with her?

"I'm a damn good architect," she reminds him, her voice sounding more defensive than she'd like.

"You're the best I've worked with."

He's sincere about the compliment, but she refuses to let that sway her. "But I'm not someone you can control. I'm a loose end, right?"

"Exactly."

"Fuck you, Arthur!"

He quirks his eyebrow, and expels a resigned sigh. "I'm extremely busy, Ariadne."

"I don't care." Although she's fully aware of her own childish behavior, she can't make herself stop. Arthur always brings out the worst in her despite her best efforts to remain in control of her emotions.

Like a carefully planned strategic move so as not to provoke her any further, he walks over to the dressing table in the other corner of the suite and leans back against it. "What can I do for you?"

"Fischer knows I lied to him."

He stares back at her blankly. "Am I supposed to be surprised by this information?"

_Jerk_. "You should be more careful if you're tailing him. He said he could find out the truth very easily."

"I'm sure he thinks he can," he snarks. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

She waits for him to gloat that he warned her about this, to throw her arrogance back in her face. He doesn't. "Just say it, Arthur. I know you're dying to."

"Will it make you feel better if I do?"

"It'll just reaffirm my low opinion of you."

"In that case, I told you so."

Ariadne is tired of fighting with him, constantly worrying about what he thinks of her and keeping her guard up around him. She's had one serious relationship in the past, and it was pleasant and wonderful and only disintegrated because she couldn't bring herself to stay in the same city after her grandfather passed away. Michael wasn't willing to move to another country and she needed a fresh start away from all the places that were ingrained into her memories. Ultimately the pain of the breakup was nothing compared to the grief she suffered over her grandfather's loss and it didn't take her long to move on.

The past few months she has spent more time agonizing over Arthur than she did about her two year relationship, and she's fully aware of how pathetic that makes her. She's never been insecure and self-conscious until Arthur came into her life. With him she's a live wire, raw and exposed bundle of nerves, but the worst is that he makes her ashamed to feel genuine emotions. She _should _be filled with guilt over Inception, but he acts as if she's overreacting. She's confused about her feelings for _him _but he behaves as if it's all in her head.

This _thing _between them is wrong on so many levels; the more she gets caught up in him, the more she changes. Soon, she worries she won't even recognize herself.

"Did he hurt you?"

The intense, angry expression on his face brings her back to reality and she's momentarily confused by his words. "What?"

"Fisher. Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"You don't sound too sure."

"I'm confused about why you care."

His cold mask is in place again. "If anything happens to you, I have to answer to Cobb."

"And that's the only reason?"

"Yes."

Arthur will never admit there's something between them let alone that he feels anything for her. She may have consoled herself with the idea that he's not capable of emotions, but that's not entirely true. He's intensely loyal to Cobb and trusts him implicitly, but he holds no such devotion for iher/i.

"When did you stop being my friend, Arthur?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about. We used to be friends, we were close, but you can't stand to be in the same room as me now. You won't even work with me. Why?"

"I've explained this to you before. You're a risk I can't afford to take."

"Because I _feel _things that make you uncomfortable?"

"Because you're emotional and out of control."

"Maybe I am, but that's not the real reason. You worked with Cobb when he was at his worst. Every job you did with him was a risk, but you did it anyway."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?"

He refuses to meet her gaze.

She walks towards him until she's standing directly in front of him and he can no longer avoid looking at her. She has him trapped between herself and the dresser behind him. "Why not?" she demands again.

"Get out of here, Ariadne. Leave me alone."

For the first time that she can recall, his eyes are panicked, and he appears to be on the verge of losing control.


	5. Chapter 5

"When did you stop being my friend, Arthur?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about. We used to be friends, we were close, but you can't stand to be in the same room as me now. You won't even work with me. Why?"

"I've explained this to you before. You're a risk I can't afford to take."

"Because I make you uncomfortable?"

"Because you're unpredictable and out of control."

"Maybe I am, but that's not the real reason. You worked with Cobb when he was at his worst. Every job you did with him was a risk, but you did it anyway."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?"

He refuses to meet her gaze.

She storms forward until she's standing directly in front of him. Trapped between her and the dresser behind, Arthur can no longer avoid looking at her. "Why not?"

"Get out of here, Ariadne. Leave me the hell alone."

His eyes are panicked. It dawns on her that he's possibly on the verge of losing control.

She thought when his cold exterior finally dissolved, it would make her happy, except now she's paralyzed with fear. Terrified. She's never felt more vulnerable than she does at this very moment, and a part of her finally understands why he's so hesitant to let his guard down.

It would be so much easier if she could walk away from him and ignore her feelings. Maybe if she didn't risk her heart, she could be in a healthy relationship with someone who never infuriated and frustrated her so much she wanted to scream. If she was with someone who wasn't Arthur, she'd never have to worry about losing her own identity.

Suddenly Arthur leans forward, his fingers curving around her waist, and pulls her so close she's crushed against him. The air rushes out of her lungs, her knees tremble, and she clings to him for support.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

She stares at him, stunned. She's never seen him this angry before, his eyes flashing with rage, his jaw clenched.

"You think you can just barge in here and make demands on me? I'm not your fucking lapdog, Ariadne!" he bites out through gritted teeth.

She has no idea how to react, what to do.

Watching him lose control like this, realizing how desperately he hates being vulnerable in front of her, leaves Ariadne feeling sick to her stomach. She doesn't want to hurt him, that's never been her intention.

"What do you want from me?"

She can't bear to look at him; her gaze drops to the ground. It's a struggle to maintain her composure but she refuses to dissolve into tears – she doesn't want him to think she's manipulating him.

"What do you want?" he asks again.

Maybe she should lie.

Maybe she should stay silent.

Maybe she should just walk away.

At the end, she doesn't do anything she _should _do. She tells him the truth. "You."

Feeling more exposed than she's ever done, Ariadne lifts her gaze and searches his face for some kind of response.

He's absolutely still, frozen in place, the deceptive calm before the storm that strikes unexpectedly.

One moment he's staring at her, his eyes blank and unreadable. Next, his hands are cupping her face and his lips close over hers and she's completely, entirely lost within him.

This is nothing like the quick peck they shared in the dream; this kiss is frenzied, an assault on her senses, simultaneously passionate and violent. An act of possession. Except she has no idea who's claiming whom.

Arthur isn't soft or sweet nor is he tender or gentle with her. His mouth ravages hers, hands pulling up her top clumsily until he makes contact with her bare skin. His fingers dig into her hips, caressing her roughly with both his hands and mouth.

Her brain is muddled, her body aching and screaming for him, and when he picks her up in one quick motion, she wraps her legs around his waist for support. Her fingers lace through his hair, fisting the strands momentarily before curving around the back of his head; she bites his lip and it provokes a groan from him so primal it's as arousing as the way he's working her with his tongue.

She needs more from him, craves it desperately, and even with the close proximity it still feels like he's entirely too far away and there are too many layers of clothing between them. As if reading her mind, he peels her jacket off despite their awkward position and throws it on the ground.

He's hard; she can feel his erection against her skin. She aches to _touch _him, wrap her fingers around him, and taste him.

Startled when he suddenly drops her on the mattress - she didn't even realize he had carried her to the bed – she stares up at him. He's breathing heavily, his bottom lip bruised, gaze fixated on her with such intensity he appears anguished.

Ariadne grabs the bottom of his tie and pulls him forward. Arthur lands on her awkwardly, his chin hitting her right cheek as he attempts to balance himself on top.

She bursts out laughing and he follows suit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, rubbing the spot he struck softly.

His weight pressed down on her body, the raw desire for her clearly visible in his eyes, makes her feel absolutely heady. "Fine," she whispers, linking her fingers together behind his neck.

"I didn't hurt you?"

She shakes her head 'no'. "Not this time."

The change in him is subtle, someone else probably wouldn't even notice the sudden darkening of his eyes, but she realizes the instant he pulls away emotionally from her.

8888

**A/N: As always, thank you for reading and leaving me such wonderful feedback. I appreciate them all :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Ariadne grabs the bottom of his tie and pulls him forward. Arthur lands on her awkwardly, his chin hitting her right cheek as he attempts to balance himself on top.

She bursts out laughing and he follows suit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, rubbing the spot he struck softly.

His weight pressed down on her body, the raw desire for her clearly visible in his eyes, leaves her feeling absolutely intoxicated. "Fine," she whispers, linking her fingers together behind his neck.

"I didn't hurt you?"

She shakes her head 'no'. "Not this time." The change in him is subtle, his eyes transitioning from deep, warm brown to a stormy hue, his jaw suddenly tense. "What's wrong?"

Perched above, he studies her for a long time, his heated gaze seeking answers to questions he won't share. After what feels like an eternity of being scrutinized by him, she extends her hand to cup his face. He moves away instantly to sit on the opposite corner of the bed, his back turned to her.

Staring up at the ceiling, she contemplates what just happened between them. Arthur's mask dissolved, he lost control, and she was witness to how vulnerable he really was with her.

He can protest over and over again how little she means to him, but she knows it's an absolute lie. He's as affected by her as she him. This should make her feel better; it doesn't. It frightens her even more.

"I think you should leave," Arthur says monotonously.

Before she would have mistaken his controlled tone of voice as part of his cold nature, but now she can see right through the facade. He's struggling to maintain his cool composure. With new-found determination, she sits up. "I'm not going anywhere until we've talked about this."

"You can't leave things well enough alone, can you?"

"I'm not built to run away when things get tough."

"I suppose you think that's brave on your part?"

"It's better than living your life in fear."

"Did you pick that up from Dr. Phil?" he snarks.

"Oprah, actually."

She can see a smile tugging at the corner of his lips but he doesn't give in to it.

"I'm a firm believer in self-preservation, Ariadne."

"Meaning?"

"You're a smart girl. Figure it out."

"That's just a different way of saying you're a coward," she snaps, resisting the urge to throw something at him in response to his condescending words. Fortunately, he doesn't rise to her taunt; the last thing they need is to get involved in another argument. When he still remains silent after a few minutes, she scoots closer and takes the seat next to him. Despite the lack of any physical contact between them, she can feel the sudden tension exuding from him. Not only is he avoiding her gaze, he's also extremely careful not to touch her. "Wouldn't it be easier to stop fighting this?"

He levels her with a hostile stare. "You know what would be easiest? If you stayed the hell out of my life."

"Then why are _you _following me around? I walked away, remember?"

"I didn't want you jeopardizing-"

"That's bullshit!" she interjects. "Why isn't Cobb here? Or Eames? Or Saito, for that matter? Why aren't _they_ telling me I'm screwing things up for them? Why is it only you?"

He has no answer for her, he simply returns to his original position, staring straight ahead.

"You can go back to pretending you're indifferent to me but I know it's a lie."

"If you're expecting a heartfelt confession of love, you're in for a major disappointment."

"That's not why I'm here."

"Then what, you want to save me?" he demands, his eyes flashing with anger. "I'm not Cobb. You don't get to waltz into my life and rescue me."

"I have no intention of saving you. I don't _want _that responsibility!"

"Then what do you want?"

It's her turn to be silent. Sitting beside him, the object of his hateful scorn, she ponders his question. "Be honest with me. I want you to acknowledge there is something between us, that I'm not just imagining things."

It takes a while for him to speak. "I can't…"

"You're not the only one who's scared. I am too, you know."

"You're not afraid of anything," he says softly, surprising her.

"That's not true. I'm scared I'm always going to be alone." She's the one avoiding his gaze now, shifting her attention to the ground, as he studies her silently. "I dread Christmas. Everyone goes home to their families and I spend it by myself in my apartment."

"I hate Christmas too. Always have," he reveals quietly.

"Even when you were a little kid?"

"Especially then."

"Why?"

"Sharing time is over for today." He stands up, walks over to the mini-bar, his stride quick and determined, and pulls out a small bottle of vodka.

His guard is back up again.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," she whispers. "I'm scared it's changing me for the worse."

Arthur cocks his eyebrow, feigning a relaxed posture even as his eyes betray the intense range of emotions he's trying to mask.

"You're a jerk most of the time. And when you're not a jerk, you're being an asshole."

"You're not exactly a saint yourself, Ariadne."

"I know. You make me so angry sometimes I just want to scream and break everything in sight. I hate how irrational I become when I'm around you."

His features soften, almost as if he's debating moving closer to comfort her.

"I can feel myself sinking, and I can't get out. Do you know how terrifying that is?"

"Yes."

She realizes, instinctively, he's at his most honest self at this very moment. There is no mask, no pretension – just Arthur expressing his feelings the only way he can.

"In this business, I can't afford to be distracted," he continues. "There are too many important factors at stake."

"I know."

"And you, Ariadne, are the worst kind of distraction."

She has no idea how to respond to him.

"I need to be completely focused when I'm working. When you're around, I can't do that."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"Then you need to stay away from me."

Silence ensues, the air thick with unspoken words between them. She wills herself to look away from him, worried if she doesn't she'll give in to the wave of emotions that's threatening to overcome her, but she can't, and neither does he. The bottle in his hand remains closed, forgotten, his face a faint reflection of what she's feeling inside. "Is this what you really want?" she asks.

"This is what I _need_."

"Then, I guess, this is goodbye."


	7. Chapter 7

Ariadne slips into the short, sleeveless black dress she purchased earlier today and studies her reflection in the mirror. A stranger looks back at her with red-stained lips, faint rose blush across the cheeks, hair straightened with no hint of the loose, natural curls she usually sports.

It's quarter to six, her date should be here any minute now, and considering their last encounter – plus the fact she hasn't been on an actual date in months - she's more nervous than usual. The soft knock on the door enhances her anxiety more. She rushes to answer it, pausing just long enough to give herself a little pep talk before swinging the door open. "Hi." On the other side is Robert Fischer, dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit that cost probably more than what she paid a year in rent. His hair is impeccably groomed, blue eyes sparkling brighter than she remembers.

"Hello," he greets with a soft smile.

Face to face with him, she's reminded once again of how beautiful he is. Not handsome in the traditional sense, but striking nonetheless. Prominent cheekbones, full lips, delicate features that would make any woman jealous but, on him, it all works together to create a package that's absolutely stunning.

"Definitely not 16 tonight," he smirks.

It takes her a few seconds to realize he's referring to her age. "21?"

"Don't push your luck. 19 at the most."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

"I must have skipped that day in school."

His smirk transforms into a genuine smile, and she can feel the heat rise in her cheeks as his gaze slowly roams over her face. He may not offer any compliments, but the appreciative glint in his eyes goes a long way toward calming her nerves.

"I guess you're not planning to invite me in any time soon."

She returns his playful smile. "You have to earn your invitation. That's how we do things in Paris."

"Unfortunately I don't know any party tricks."

"That's too bad."

"Looks like we're at an impasse."

"Oh, come on. You're not even going to try and negotiate? I'm disappointed in you."

There is a subtle shift in his demeanor, a small glimmer of something deep and troubled hiding in his eyes that dissolves so quickly she almost thinks she imagined it.

"Most people are."

If she didn't know the truth about Robert's relationship with his father, would she have picked up on the faint bitterness behind his words? Ariadne has no idea, and it makes her wonder how much of her opinion of Fischer is colored by what they did to him.

"Am I boring you already?"

She opens the door wider to allow him in. He steps inside, quirks his eyebrow as he surveys her tiny apartment.

"Be careful about what you say," she warns. "It may not be what you're used to but this _is _my home."

"It's lovely. Reminds me of the closet in my very first apartment."

"No need to be modest. I'm sure the closet was bigger."

"It really was."

Ariadne walks to the kitchen, chuckling to herself. "What do you want to drink? Red, white, something else?"

"Whatever you're having."

Moments later she returns to the living room to find Robert browsing through her collection of CD's. She hands him a glass of red wine before taking a seat on the

couch. "I was surprised when you called. I didn't think you wanted to talk to me after New York."

"I didn't."

She waits for him to explain further; he doesn't, instead taking a sip of his wine.

"Then why are you here?"

"I have my reasons."

"Care to share?"

"Not particularly. If you're going to hold out on me, I think it's only fair I do the same."

"You still believe I'm lying to you."

"Let's not play that game, Ariadne. We both know that you are."

Guilt surges through her as she holds his gaze, the intensity of his blue eyes piercing right through her. "But you asked me out anyway."

"And you said 'yes'."

She sends him a self-deprecating smile. "I guess we're both a little screwed up."

"We make a great team."

Glancing at the clock, she stands up and approaches him. "Are a lot of your friends going to be at this party?"

He shakes his head. "Not even one."

"Then why are we going?"

"Because they're people I do business with but whose company I can barely tolerate."

"Sounds like it's going to be a blast," she mutters sarcastically.

"Exactly."

As he hands her his empty glass of wine, his fingers accidentally brush against hers, lingering on her skin longer than necessary. The sensation is pleasant, even slightly arousing, but she's unexpectedly stricken with the memory of Arthur's heated gaze marking her as his own, his hands sliding over her body, rough and demanding, his breath hot against her skin, and her body aches with the distant memory of his touch.

"Are you okay?"

Robert's concerned expression brings her rushing back to reality. "I'm fine. We should leave now."

Shortly after, as they drive through the city in Robert's town car, Ariadne has the surprising and intense urge to check her totem. She reaches into her clutch to grab the bishop only to realize she never brought it with her.

For months after their attempt at inception, she couldn't bear to distance herself from her totem. She needed to be constantly assured the life she was living, even if it was one consumed with guilt and confusion, was in fact reality, that she wasn't stuck in a nightmare, and the totem provided that comfort. But soon her obsession with finding out more about Fischer, and her complicated non-relationship with Arthur, took over her brain and, eventually, her dependence on the totem lessened.

"What's on your mind?" Robert asks.

"Just nervous, I guess."

"Why?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Doesn't sound like it's going to be my kind of crowd."

"Probably not but that's a good thing."

"If you say so."

"We don't have to go."

"No, I want to meet these people who annoy you so much."

"Alright, but remember that I gave you an out."

She chuckles softly. "Will do."

Robert grows quiet, and she takes the opportunity to study him. Even though this is only the second time they've been out together, there is a comfort level between them which surprises her; there is no awkwardness despite the long bout of silence in the car.

She ponders his thoughts, what his true motivations are for calling her out of the blue and wanting to see her. She wonders if the inception did take and, if so, how long it would be before Robert started dismantling his father's empire and what consequences it would hold for him; how he would feel if he knew the truth about her actions.

Inadvertently, her thoughts turn to Arthur. She hasn't seen him in six weeks, not since he practically begged her to stay out of his life. She'd walked out of his hotel room that night with her heart broken and devastated, and subsequently has kept herself occupied by enrolling back in school, reconnecting with old friends, anything that'll keep her mind from dwelling on him. Unfortunately, with Robert back in her life, she finds herself thinking about Arthur again.

Realizing she's fallen back into old patterns, Ariadne chastises herself for reminiscing about Arthur. She doesn't want to be drowning in despair over someone who can't - won't - admit his feelings for her. She deserves better than that. And she'll be damned if she wastes any more of her time pining after him.

8888

Much later that night, they're back at her place, idling in the hallway in front of her apartment. She smiles up at Robert flirtatiously while he leans into her, his fingers lazily playing with the strands of her hair.

"That was the most boring party I've ever been to," she says, grinning.

"Actually, it was pretty exciting for that crowd."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I'm really not."

"You have a lot of pretentious friends."

"No," he argues. "I have a lot of pretentious acquaintances."

"Whatever." She loops her arms around him, linking her fingers together behind his neck, a little surprised by her own boldness. Apparently he's also puzzled by her actions if the quizzical look on his face is any indication. "Want to come in for a nightcap?"

As he studies her quietly for a few minutes, leveling her with an intense gaze, she contemplates sleeping with him. Although a part of her is hesitant, she reminds herself they're both single, are attracted to each other, and he makes her feel desirable and wanted. She's only engaged in casual sex once (in her sophomore year with a guy who was in her philosophy class) and although that in itself wasn't a very pleasant experience, her instincts tell her Robert will be different.

"I have an early morning flight tomorrow," Robert responds.

"Back to Australia?"

"Los Angeles."

"Does that mean you won't come in?"

"Not tonight."

Ariadne's taken by surprise when Robert suddenly leans in for a kiss. His lips are soft and gentle, his tongue coaxing her mouth open, stroking hers playfully when she allows him entrance. Although tender, she knows instinctively he's holding back with her and that's the last thing she wants. Standing on her tip-toes, she pulls him close aggressively. Her fingers curve around the back of his head, and she deepens their kiss.

She's desperate to lose herself in him, shut off her brain and enjoy this moment of pleasure, but it's almost as if she isn't even there. Like she's not the one in his arms kissing him back, sighing into his mouth when he slowly lifts her dress mid-thigh and caresses the exposed skin.

She wants to stop thinking; she can't.

She wants to experience the all-consuming desire she felt with Arthur, the same rush of intense emotions that swept through her body and left her breathless and panting for more; she doesn't.

Robert is the first one to pull away.

Even as she clings to him and his lips gently graze her forehead, it's relief that surges through her. As much as she wants to deny the hold Arthur still has on her and move on with her life, it seems like her heart is in no rush to do the same. And she hates herself for it.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," she smiles despite the sinking feeling that threatens to overcome her. "Have a safe flight."

"Goodnight."

He turns away, walking to the staircase, when she feels that spontaneous compulsion that's always gotten her into trouble. It was the same need that made her decide to move to Paris without even consulting her boyfriend first; the one that forced her to trespass into Cobb's dream when she thought he was hiding something. "Robert?"

He looks over his shoulder at her. "Yes?"

"I have to tell you something."


	8. Chapter 8

"I have to tell you something."

Robert turns to face Ariadne, the intense curiosity in his blue eyes doing nothing to alleviate her anxiety. Before she can stop herself, she confesses, "There's someone else."

His left eyebrow quirks up. "You have a boyfriend?"

"No, no... he's not my boyfriend. We're not dating... actually, we never dated. We just... I should have told you this before. I don't know why I didn't. No, actually that's not true. I know why," she expels quickly in a rushed breath. "I'm trying to get over him but it's complicated and-"

"Ariadne?" he interjects, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Yes?"

"Is he an imaginary boyfriend?"

It takes a second for his words to register and she bursts out laughing. As his eyes sparkle with mischief, and a dry smile marks his face, relief surges through her. Although she wasn't anticipating an angry reaction from Robert (they aren't close enough to warrant that), she assumed he would be irritated with her for wasting his time. "No, he's real. Unfortunately."

"But you're not involved with him?"

She shakes her head 'no'.

"How often do you see him?"

"Never. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me."

"He sounds like an idiot."

A bitter smile forms across her face. "That's what I keep telling myself."

"You're single and unattached. I'm not really seeing what the problem is."

"When you put it that way-"

"It sounds a little foolish?"

She laughs, she can't help herself.

Slipping his hands into his pocket, Robert levels her with a glance that inspires an odd mixture of guilt and embarrassment in her. "I suppose I should be upset you're using me to get over him."

She observes him, pondering his thoughts. His face is presently blank, without any hint of emotion, and she's reminded all too much of Arthur's cool composure.

For her own selfish reasons, she wishes Robert was different - completely opposite of Arthur - so she's not constantly reminded of the man she's trying to get over.

"I'm not looking for anything serious, Ariadne, especially since you're hiding something from me."

She doesn't disagree.

"I enjoy your company. We have a good time..."

He seems almost hesitant to finish his sentence; she does it for him. "But you want to keep things casual."

"Yes."

"Guess we're both using each other."

"Looks that way."

They exchange wary glances, an uncomfortable silence trailing in the air, when Robert finally speaks up. "I should get going."

"Okay."

"I'll call you," he says before turning around to leave.

She lingers in the hallway long after he's disappeared from her light of sight.

8888

A restless Ariadne lies on her back and stares up at the ceiling. It's almost three in the morning, she has a class in six hours, and instead of sleeping she's too busy pondering the situation she finds herself in.

Before she can rethink her impulsive decision, not that it would stop her anyway, she reaches for her cell phone and dials his number. She doesn't really expect him to pick up. For all she knows he's on a job somewhere, probably on a different continent, or simply avoiding her call altogether. When he does answer after the fourth ring, she finds herself suddenly speechless.

"Hello?"

The velvety rasp in Arthur's voice, as if he just woke up from a deep slumber, strikes a nostalgic chord within her. It's been a while since she's spoken to him and her heart aches with the memory of him.

"I know it's you, Ariadne."

"Is it late where you are?"

"After midnight, but not too late."

"Were you sleeping?"

"I was."

"Alone?"

His hesitation is obvious. "Yes."

"I shouldn't have asked. I know it's none of my business."

"That's never stopped you before," he points out.

"You hate that about me, don't you?"

"Hate is a strong emotion."

"And you don't care enough to feel that strongly," she remarks, remembering what he once told her months ago.

He's silent for a long time. At one point she wonders if he even fell asleep but she can hear his soft breathing at the other end of the line and knows he's wide awake.

"I hate your curious streak."

She chuckles.

Considering their strange relationship, it's as close to a confession of feelings she'll ever get from him.

"It's gotten me in a lot of trouble before," she replies.

"I'm sure it still will."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"You wouldn't be you if you weren't curious."

He almost sounds affectionate discussing her personality trait; she's not sure how to react to that so she simply ignores it. "Can I ask you something?"

This time he's the one who laughs. "What if I say no?"

"I would ask anyway."

"I assumed."

"Why haven't you hung up on me yet?"

She can sense the wheels turning in his head, his brain analysing the appropriate answer to her question.

"I'm wondering if you're in trouble," he finally replies.

"If I was, I wouldn't call you. Maybe Cobb or Eames, but not you."

"Why not?" Arthur questions in a rather biting tone, surprising her.

"Things didn't exactly end well between us," she reminds him. "And you begged me to stay out of your life!"

"I don't _beg_."

"Fine. Ordered. Whatever."

"Yet here you are. So what do you need?"

She sighs heavily. The unspoken truce is broken. "Do you ever think about me?"

"Don't. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"I want to get over you. I want to stop thinking about you... but I can't."

His voice is laced with desperation, and she can imagine how frustrated he feels with her. "What do you want from me?"

"Tell me how you do it... because I _need _to turn off these feelings. I have to move on from you."

He doesn't say anything.

"I had a date tonight," she continues, surprising herself as she hadn't planned on telling Arthur about it.

"Must not have gone too well if you're home alone," he declares smugly.

"You're wrong. It went really well."

"Then why are you calling me?"

The simmering anger laced in his voice catches her by surprise. "I told you why."

"You want me to give you a pep talk before you fuck him."

"Now you're just being obnoxious."

"Am I? I don't think so."

He's not even attempting to hide his rage anymore; he's set to explode and take her down with him.

"You want to _fuck _some guy without feeling bad or guilty about it and you want me to say it's alright, that you need to do this to move on with your life. I'm not going to do that!"

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" she fires back.

"Well, I'm not one of your fucking girlfriends. You don't get to call me in the middle of the night so we can gossip about your dates."

"And _you_ don't get to act jealous when you're the one who told me to stay away!"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm irritated, Ariadne, not jealous."

"No, you're just a fucking _coward_" she vents and hangs up on him.

To be continued...

**A/N - As always, thank you for reading and I hope you share your thoughts with me.**


	9. Chapter 9

"I had a date tonight," Ariadne says, surprising herself with her confession as she hadn't planned on telling Arthur about it.

"Must not have gone too well if you're home alone," he declares smugly.

"You're wrong. It went really well."

"Then why are you calling me?"

The simmering anger laced in his voice catches her by surprise. "I told you why."

"You want me to give you a pep talk before you fuck him."

"Now you're just being obnoxious."

"Am I? I don't think so."

He's not even attempting to hide his rage anymore; he's set to explode and take her down with him.

"You want to _fuck _some guy without feeling bad or guilty about it and you want me to say it's alright, that you need to do this to move on with your life. I'm not going to do that!"

"Who the _hell _do you think you are?"

"Well, I'm not one of your fucking girlfriends. You don't get to call me in the middle of the night so we can gossip about your dates."

"And _you _don't get to act jealous when you're the one who told me to stay away!"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm irritated, Ariadne, not jealous."

"No, you're just a fucking _coward_!"

She hangs up on him.

Unfortunately the satisfaction of cutting him off lasts only a minute and she's right back to feeling pissed off.

Ariadne never thought she was capable of hating another human being. At this moment, however, she absolutely _hates _Arthur.

The phone rings, she glances down to find his name flashing on the display screen. "What do you want?" she answers, still fuming.

"I'm sorry."

"Fuck off."

He chuckles on the other end of the line.

"Oh, is this amusing you?"

"Your temper tantrum? Not at all," he deadpans.

"This is not a tantrum. This is me finally sick of your bullshit."

At least he's no longer laughing at her.

"I'm starting to hate you, Arthur. Does that make you happy?"

"No," he replies softly.

"Why not? Last time I saw you, you claimed it would be easier if I hated you," she reminds him of the conversation they shared in his hotel room six weeks ago.

"I said a lot of things that night."

"You shared a lot of wisdom tonight too," she retorts.

"I'm sorry about getting angry with you."

"I don't want your apology. It doesn't mean anything when you can't be honest."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Nothing. There's nothing you can say," she sighs, her anger dissolving and leaving in its place vacant emptiness. She's tired of arguing, of constantly feeling rejected by him. "I'm sorry I called you tonight. I shouldn't have."

"I'm glad you did."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm being honest here."

"You don't know what that means."

He remains silent.

"Goodbye, Arthur." She hangs up on him for the second time that night.

When her phone rings again she debates not picking it up, but finds herself unable to ignore his call. "Arthur, it's late. I have class in the morning."

"Too bad," he grumbles.

"Now who's throwing a tantrum?"

"You need to stop hanging up on me. It's beginning to hurt my feelings."

He's teasing her but she isn't in a mood to play along. "What I _need _is to move on from you."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"Funny, that's all you've done so far."

"I know," he says regretfully. "And I'll keep doing it if you don't stay away. This is for your own benefit."

"Are you kidding me?" And she's right back to experiencing the explosive, raging fit which Arthur has a tendency to provoke her into. "Drop the knight in shining armor routine. You're acting like a coward to protect yourself, not me."

"Don't hold back," he mutters sarcastically. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I can look out for myself. I don't need you to do me any favors."

She can hear his soft breathing, sense the turmoil in him. However, he remains quiet, so does she, and the long bout of silence continues between them. She contemplates hanging up on him but something compels her not to.

"Do you think it'll always be like this between us?" he asks.

"Like what?"

"Angry. Hostile. You reacting defensively whenever I say something you don't like."

"Or you acting jealous but pretending like it's nothing when I tell you about my dates?"

"Touché."

A reluctant smile forms across her face.

"You haven't answered my question," he reminds her.

"I think you were right before. This thing will only get worse between us."

His disappointment is evident in the heavy sigh that escapes him.

"But we have a choice; we can change things, we don't have to go down that route," she explains.

"This is where you're going to preach about honesty again, aren't you?"

"Maybe I'll just hang up on you instead."

"Fine. I'll shut up."

"Good boy."

She can picture the amused smile on his face.

"Share your sage wisdom, oh wise one. I'm listening."

"Stop being a jerk to me. There's only so far you can push me before I give up on you."

"Why haven't you yet?"

Now it's her turn to pause.

"I've been a complete ass, I told you to leave me alone. But you haven't. Why not?"

"Maybe I'm a sucker for a pretty face."

"Now who's avoiding the truth?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Last time I checked honesty works both ways," he points out, a little too smugly for her liking. "I think it's only fair you bare your soul if you expect me to do the same."

She shifts around in bed, kicks off the duvet. "Where are you right now?" she asks.

"London."

"For a job?"

"Yes."

"How's it going?"

"So far, so good. Simple extraction work."

"I should let you go. This call is probably costing you a fortune."

"I'm not worried about it," he says. "Are we done with the small talk yet?"

_Bastard_. "What do you want me to say, Arthur?"

"Tell me how you really feel. It's what you want ime/i to do."

"Except I wouldn't throw your words back in your face. I wouldn't reject you. You've done that to me many times…" She doesn't finish her sentence, hating the way her voice cracks. Around him she's intensely vulnerable and exposed and that's always worked to her disadvantage. She needs to remain in control. Like him.

"I miss you," he admits quietly. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've thought about calling you."

She's stunned by his confession.

She doesn't really know what to say.

As the minutes pass, she's not sure how long they sit in silence. The air is thick with tension; the only sound being the thunderous beating of her heart, pounding in her chest.

Despite the sincerity in his tone, she's hesitant to trust him. Every time the walls have come down between them, even ever so slightly, he's pulled away immediately after. She's not sure her heart can take that again.

"Ariadne?"

He's waiting for some kind of response but her brain is working overtime to figure out what his motives are. Why tonight? Why now? What changed between them?

"Are you there?" he asks, sounding almost panicked.

"Yes."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to say something besides 'yes'?"

"I'm considering it."

"Anything I can do to move things along?"

"You can shut up and let me think."

He chuckles softly.

**A/N: As always, any thoughts you may care to share is highly appreciated.**


	10. Chapter 10

"I miss you," he admits quietly. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've thought about calling you."

She's stunned by his confession.

She doesn't really know what to say.

The minutes pass, she's not sure how long they sit in silence. The air is thick with tension; the only sound being the thunderous beating of her heart, pounding in her chest.

Despite the sincerity in his tone, she's hesitant to trust him. Every time the walls have come down between them, even ever so slightly, he's pulled away immediately after. She's not sure her heart can take that again.

"Ariadne?"

He's waiting for some kind of response but her brain is working overtime to figure out what his motives are. Why tonight? Why now? What changed between them?

"Are you there?" he asks, sounding almost panicked.

"Yes."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to say something besides 'yes'?"

"I'm considering it."

"Anything I can do to move things along?"

"You can shut up and let me think."

He chuckles softly.

88888

It's almost dawn. She has a class in less than four hours, she should be sleeping. Instead she's lying in bed with the phone nestled between her head and shoulder, listening to the quiet sound of his breaths. The rhythm has a calming effect on her, something she desperately needs right now when her brain is muddled with confusion.

"What are you thinking about?" he finally asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

She can sense the hesitation behind his question, the deeply buried insecurity which he's trying to keep hidden from her. This isn't easy for him, she knows that, and maybe if she was a better person she could accept his confession at face value, but she isn't. He's hurt her repeatedly, and she's not sure he won't do it again. "Why are you telling me this now?"

His heavy sigh holds secrets he won't reveal. "I don't know."

"What if I hadn't called you today?"

There's a definite bite to his tone this time. _This _is the Arthur she's familiar with. "I don't know."

"And here I thought you had all the answers."

"I used to, until you came along."

"This is my fault?"

"Yes."

She smiles, she can't help it. He sounds like a petulant child who's been forced to apologize.

"So do you really have nothing to say to me?" he probes.

It takes her a while to respond. "I can't figure out why you're telling me this."

"Do I have to have a reason?"

"You always do, Arthur. You don't do anything without one."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."

"That's not what I want."

"Isn't it?"

"No. I don't want you to change. Not for me."

"How many times have you called me a cold-blooded bastard?"

"Are you really trying to pick a fight with me now?"

"Just answer the question. How many?"

"Too many to count."

"Exactly. And now you're telling me you don't want me to change? Make up your fucking mind, Ariadne."

"And you need to start paying attention, _Arthur_. I want you to let me in. I never said I wanted you to change."

"Trust me. You won't like what you find."

"Let _me _be the judge of that."

"I'm no Prince Charming."

"No shit, Sherlock," she scoffs loudly. "I don't have blinders on when it comes to you. You're difficult, you're frustrating, you're stubborn as hell-"

"Stop. You're making me blush," he deadpans.

"But underneath all that, you're…"_ Soft. Sweet. Kind._ Things she'll never tell him because he'll mock her mercilessly for it. She remembers the beginning stages of their friendship all too well, when they first started working together, all the late nights they spent talking and laughing. Cobb may have introduced her to the world of dream-sharing but it was Arthur who taught her the ins and outs of dream space, he was with her every step of the way while she explored this whole new world, sharing with her the amazing adrenaline rush that followed after every experiment.

It saddens her that what started out as a great friendship between them degenerated into something this painful and broken. At first she believed it was because of her increasing guilt about Robert that caused Arthur to withdraw from her, but over the past few months she's come to realize that wasn't true. Arthur was already pulling away for a while; her breakdown over the Inception job was just the excuse he needed to add more distance between them.

"Ariadne?"

The soft urgency in his tone brings her out of her reverie.

"Don't leave me hanging," he probes. "What am I on the inside?"

"Not as much of a jerk."

He laughs, and she can't help but join in. The sound of his laughter has always been cheery and infectious, surprising her with the carefreeness of it since it was so unlike him.

"And you know what you are?" he asks.

"What?"

"A major pain in the ass."

"Whatever. You love that about me." She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth. Any hopes she has of Arthur not misconstruing her words are quickly dashed when there's a sudden awkward pause in the air. "I was just joking," she explains quickly.

"I can't give you what you want, Ariadne."

His guard is back up again along with the cold exterior that she's come to loathe.

And she no longer has the patience to deal with it.

"No, you can't. So there's no point in continuing this conversation."

"So that's it? This is goodbye?"

He seems genuinely surprised with her answer, almost as if he expected her to argue and try and change his mind.

"I deserve someone who _wants _to be with me… and you've said many times that's not you. So… yeah, this is goodbye."

She hangs up on him.

Although proud of herself for sounding as firm as she did, Ariadne wishes she could somehow convince her heart to go along with her words. In time, maybe she can. No, no maybes. She _has _to. Because she refuses to be in love with someone who can't love her back. She deserves better than that.


End file.
